


Laundroland

by K9Lasko



Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baltimore, M/M, Past Infidelity, Romance in the Laundromat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-28 22:23:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13913415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K9Lasko/pseuds/K9Lasko
Summary: After fifteen years, they run into each other again, purely by chance and in an unlikely place.





	Laundroland

**Author's Note:**

> So, what if Tony never took Gibbs up on that job offer? And what if they became a little bit more while Gibbs was working in Baltimore? 
> 
> Obviously, I took massive liberties with the timeline. I apologize in advance.
> 
> I do intend to write a follow-up companion piece of go along with it.

**WASHINGTON, DC  
“LAUNDROLAND”**

He fed quarters into one of the many washers. The line-up of identikit coin-operated machines was stark. This one appeared less unfortunate than the others. A tad newer, and also a respectable distance from the other occupied machines. He’d rather not make eye-contact with anyone else while laundering his knickers.

Strip lights flickered above, bulbs half-way towards death. The air felt thick, humid — full of detergent scent, all of them mixed together in a heavy, headache inducing bouquet. The worn vinyl floor looked in need of a vigorous mopping. A man and a woman sat in two of the sagging plastic chairs lined up against the wall. They stared at their clothes tumbling in three dryers, all side by side. Hypnotised by the round-and-round motion of it. The pair of them were as tired and drab as the rest of this place. A mother and her child occupied a corner. They talked softly. The girl giggled, dark eyes bright, pigtails messy.

A laundromat is as much a place of necessity as it is desperation. It is, perhaps, where the two intersect, but only briefly. One does not always mean the other. Gibbs had let his mind wander, a rare thing for him, but it fit — here at the laundromat.

The first two quarters slid in just fine. The display glowed a cheerful red $0.50. But the third one got stuck halfway to the till and the machine didn’t register the additional twenty-five cents. The once cheerful red $0.50 turned mocking. Gibbs scowled and banged the panel with the side of his fist. The quarter popped out of the return. He put it back in. Same thing. He banged it again with a fist. 

$0.50. Glowing in angry, impatient red. He had six more quarters to go.

Gibbs reached to put another in.

“Hang on,” someone said from behind him. “You have to kinda push it in, hard. Otherwise it gets caught. Here—” The man took a quarter of his own and thrust it into the slot. They were both greeted with the happy sound of coin against coins. “See?”

Gibbs saw the $0.75 show up on the digital display. He turned to look at the man and grunted his thanks. “Now I owe you a quarter.”

“No problem! It’s on me. Welcome to Laundroland.” The man winked, and Gibbs stared at him for several long seconds. People didn’t wink at Leroy Jethro Gibbs. And on top of that, there was something very familiar about this man. Something very, very uncomfortably familiar.

“Hey! I know you.” The man beat him to it. “The Navy cop guy? Gibbs, right? Jethro?” He laughed, and it sounded somewhat nervous.

Gibbs squinted his eyes. “Right.” He was definitely familiar. Tall, light brown hair, hazel eyes, big smile. Older now. Older than he was before. “Detective DiNozzo. Tommy, isn’t it?” 

“Close. It’s Tony,” he corrected, still smiling. “Been years!”

“Fifteen, at least.”

“Probably more!” Tony seemed inordinately excited for a guy at the laundromat at 8pm on a Saturday night. “Crazy. So what are you doing here?”

Gibbs gestured at the washing machine. Obvious. “Laundry.” He began putting the rest of the quarters in, one after the other, mimicking the way Tony had done it. None of them got stuck, except for one, and it took two fist poundings to get it unstuck.

Tony watched Gibbs’ progress with interest. “Guess that would make sense. It is what one does here at the Laundroland—”

“You still a detective up in Baltimore?” Gibbs moved to the next machine and poured some detergent in. It was a two-load kind of night, unfortunately. This machine looked a great deal older, and Gibbs wondered vaguely if it would make it through the wash cycle.

“Haven’t worked there for a while now. I transferred to the transit police, then after that I moved to Orlando and did a year or two with them, and then…” He paused, probably because Gibbs obviously wasn’t looking for such a detailed response; Gibbs had already turned back to his meticulous quarter-pushing. “But,” Tony said, “you don’t want to hear my whole resume.”

Gibbs nodded, vaguely.

“So now,” Tony said, “I’m a vice detective with DC Metro.”

Gibbs nodded, again. The quarters kept going in. Almost there. “Vice, huh.”

“Yeah. Doing this and that. Some undercover. Mostly just cruising around. Keeping an eye on people and things.”

Giving Tony a tight smile, Gibbs grabbed his laundry bag. “Well, better leave you to it, detective.” He moved for the front door.

Tony asked his back, “You mean you’re just gonna leave your clothes washing here? You’re gonna leave them alone?” Tony trotted after him. “Didn’t you read the sign?” 

Gibbs had read the sign. It said: ‘Do not leave clothes unattended.’ But, in true Gibbs form, the rules didn’t always apply. Not when he could grab a drink at the pub down the street and catch up on his paperback reading. That sounded infinitely better than sitting here in this painful artificial light and watching clothes being washed.

“They’re real sticklers here. I should know,” Tony said. “Somebody stole my skivvies right out from under me!” 

“Busy.” Gibbs pushed through the door.

It closed with a happy jingle, right in Tony’s face.

But Tony continued to follow him outside, dogged. “Hey, wait a minute, will ya?” He reached out a hand and gripped Gibbs by the bicep. “Wait.”

Gibbs turned around sharply and nailed Tony down with a stare, and not a particularly friendly one. He asked, loud enough to be heard over the traffic, “What’s your problem?”

“I’d like to ask you the same thing!” Tony replied, voice hot. “It’s like you don’t even remember what happened.”

Traffic rushed by, and so did Gibbs’ thoughts. What did this guy want from him? They hadn’t seen each other in years. Tony hadn’t called, hadn’t written. Nothing. He’d dropped off the face of the planet. And Gibbs hadn’t pursued contact, either. Instead, he’d forgotten about him. Moved on, until now. In this laundromat. He even pretended he’d forgotten his name.

It was chilly out here on the sidewalk, and Tony shoved his hands in his pockets. Their breath floated in the air between them as they stood in the neon glow of the giant Laundroland sign, complete with lively animated neon suds. A banner flapped under the sign, tied crookedly to the building. It read: “Make America Clean Again!” Traffic rushed by, noisy.

Gibbs studied Tony’s face. Still so familiar. Noticeably older, but then so was Gibbs. It was unavoidable after so many years. The green flashing light stuck onto Tony’s eyelashes, and his cheeks, and his nose. But as usual, Gibbs stayed silent as he waited for Tony to take up the reins of communication.

“It’s just so weird,” Tony said, “seeing you again. Here, of all the places. I’ll admit, I’m a little turned around.”

“Laundry won’t do itself,” Gibbs grunted. “Machine’s broke at home.”

Tony looked upward in brief frustration. “Just a coincidence then, I guess.”

“I guess.”

“But you don’t believe in coincidences,” Tony said. “I remember that.”

“Right,” Gibbs said, as monosyllabic as ever.

“Haven’t changed a bit, have you,” Tony observed, sourly.

“But you have.”

Tony huffed and looked away into the traffic. “You never got to know me. How would you know if I’m any different?”

“You never let me. Get to know you, I mean.”

Tony swallowed and kept his eyes on the street.

“I gave you an opportunity, Tony. You didn’t take it. Not my problem.”

“Can I assume you’re still with NCIS?” Tony then asked. 

“Sure.”

Tony nodded. A woman nudged past them both with a full basket of clothes, and Tony watched as she went inside. The door jingled, happy as ever to admit another customer. Tony offered, “I’ll look after your clothes while you do… whatever it is you’re doing. Deal?”

“I’m going for a drink down the street,” Gibbs said.

Tony blinked.

“But I’m not inviting you.” 

“Fine.”

Gibbs held back a chuckle at the way Tony feigned indifference.

“Deal is still on the table, even though you’re a bastard,” said Tony. “I’ll babysit your underwear. I’m doing mine anyway.”

Gibbs allowed him a crooked smile. “Deal.” Then he reached out and pressed a roll of quarters into Tony’s palm. “And switch ‘em over to the dryer, if you could. I might have two drinks.”  
“Oh, that’ll be extra.” With a frown, Tony watched him go. “Be careful. This isn’t the best neighborhood, you know.”

Gibbs waved a hand and continued down the sidewalk.

“Hey,” Tony called out to him one last time. 

Gibbs paused and turned around.

“Did you really forget my name?”

“No.” Gibbs considered something he really thought he had forgotten. “But I wish I could’ve.”

\----

**FIFTEEN OR SO YEARS AGO  
BALTIMORE, MARYLAND**

It was pissing down rain, and Tony watched absently as it ran in thick rivers down the passenger side window. The wipers ran fast, but they barely kept up with the deluge. Headlights sliced through the gloom as the car sat parallel parked in front of a large apartment block. 

Gibbs stayed behind the wheel, hands curled loosely around it. He said nothing. Just sat there staring at the potholes filled up with storm water.

“Thanks for the ride,” Tony said, finally. He didn’t move to open the door. Maybe he was waiting until the rain let up, but it had been going on like this for a while now.

And so had the awkward silence between the two men.

“You give it thought?” Gibbs asked.

Tony nodded, although the gesture seemed vague and far removed from reality.

Gibbs waited.

“I did, and I can’t,” Tony said.

“So you’ll stay here,” Gibbs said.

“Yeah.”

“Can you do that?”

Tony answered honestly. “I don’t know. But I do know if I went with you, if I took that job, it wouldn’t stay… purely professional. I couldn’t handle that, and you shouldn’t.”

“Now you’re thinking of what’s professional.”

“I want to know why you aren’t,” Tony snapped at him. “Seems unlike whoever I thought you were. I can think of a million reasons why making me your ‘senior field agent,’ or whatever you call it over there, would be a really bad idea. You know it.”

“Stipulation was,” said Gibbs, “we couldn’t continue… this—”

“Must be nice,” Tony interrupted, “being able to switch it on and off, whenever you’d like.”

“—Which we shouldn’t have started in the first place,” Gibbs finished.

Tony looked pissed. “Don’t you fucking shift the blame, asshole.”

“It’s called self-control.” Gibbs met those angry eyes without fear. “And I’m not shifting any blame. I’m dropping you off here, at your apartment. The apartment you share with your fiancée. The same fiancée you told me about only yesterday. So, who is the asshole here?”

Tony kept his mouth shut, but he didn’t soften the glare. He didn’t need a reminder; he was already drowning in the truth of it. The guilt.

“You used me as a distraction, DiNozzo, from your own… I don’t know, unhappiness. So I’m offering you this — a way out of it. A new job. A solid opportunity. You’d be an idiot not to take it.”

“A lot of words coming out of your mouth, Gibbs.” Tony’s tone was wry.

“I have words when I need them,” Gibbs said. “You’re a helluva good investigator. Would be a shame to see you waste that.” Gibbs looked out over the wheel. “Hate wasting good.” He tapped it as he waited.

He didn’t have to wait long. 

“The answer is no,” said Tony, quietly. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“Don’t apolo—“ Gibbs found himself cut-off when Tony suddenly grabbed his face and forced the kiss. It wasn’t anything chaste or polite; it was full and open-mouthed. A desperate kind of kiss. And Gibbs, as usual, fell for it.

“I guess this is a good riddance, of sorts,” Tony mumbled into Gibbs’ mouth.

Their breathing got heavy and their movements, fumbling, as Tony tugged Gibbs’ blue polo and white undershirt from where they were neatly tucked under his belt. Gibbs ran his hands through Tony’s hair — honey brown, thick, a bit too long — then dropped them to his waist as he undid his own belt and then Tony’s belt. 

“Fuck,” Tony said in approval. “More of that.” Then he groaned it again, “Fuck.” He kissed and sucked at the juncture of Gibbs’ neck and shoulder while Gibbs kissed gently near his ear. 

Gibbs eventually put a hand in Tony’s un-zipped jeans. “Guh,” Tony grunted. He was, at this point, completely on Gibbs’ lap in the driver’s seat. It was a move that should not have been possible for a grown male in the small space of this sedan, yet he managed it, somehow, melting into Gibbs’ front like a pat of butter. His thigh accidentally knocked against the centre shifter.

The car slowly rolled forward toward a hatchback parallel parked in front of them. Luckily, Gibbs noticed and stomped on the brake pedal. The car jolted to a stop, and Tony’s ass hit the car horn. The horn brayed loudly until Tony caught on and pushed himself off it. 

Tony laughed, breathily, and commented, “Wow, that’ll wake up the neighborhood.” His hands clutched the headrest, and he seemed dazed.  
Gibbs said nothing as he hurriedly re-did his pants, and Tony, taking the hint, settled himself back in his own seat. Tony didn’t bother with his own belt. He simply stared up at the car’s beige ceiling. He breathed hard, and his mouth was wet from the kissing. Finally, he looked over at Gibbs. “Your place?” The ‘please’ went unsaid.

Gibbs shook his head. “You’re already here, where you need to be. Go home.”

Tony licked his lips, then looked away. Into the rain, at the soggy streets and at the apartment block he called home. Like a chastised dog. ‘Go home.’ “I’m pathetic,” he said out loud.

“Hey,” Gibbs said. He reached out and took Tony’s chin to turn his head. 

Their eyes met, but nothing happened.

“Guess I missed out on two opportunities, huh.” Tony zipped and buttoned his pants, buckled his belt. He wiped his face and ran his hand a couple times through his hair. He turned one more time, and looked Gibbs dead in the eyes. Again, he said, “Thank you for the ride. It’s appreciated.”

Gibbs knew Tony was talking about a lot more than a lift home. He nodded, and he let him go. 

The door opened and slammed shut. Tony hunched in the pouring rain as he jogged to the building’s side entrance. He took a couple seconds to unlock it, then he was gone. Gibbs ran his hands down his face, slowly, and when he’d put everything back together again, he put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb.

He was called back to D.C., after that. He never thought to reach out and say ‘hello’, and Tony hadn’t either. That was that, and that was over and done with.

\----

**WASHINGTON, DC  
“LAUNDROLAND”**

Tony held up the roll of quarters, nearly depleted. The paper had been pulled back sloppily. “Took you long enough, old man,” he commented from where he sat patiently on the uncomfortable plastic chair. The place was completely empty now, and eerie. There were no machines humming to cancel out the buzz emanating from the overhead lighting. Everything looked a bit surreal and yellow and washed out. “Did you have enough to drink?”

“No.” Gibbs took the quarters and eyed how few of them were left.

“Laundry tax,” Tony said. “I had my own to dry. The coin machine tends to eat ten dollar bills.”

“Sure.” Gibbs then noticed his newly clean clothes, which had been folded — not very well — and put in a basket, all of it waiting on one of the tables. “You went through my clothes,” he commented, blankly.

“You’re welcome.” 

“You’ll make a nice wife for someone,” said Gibbs, wryly.

“Hey maybe,” Tony said. “I sure made a terrible husband.” 

“Wendy?” Gibbs suddenly asked.

“You ‘forgot’ my name but not hers. Huh.”

“I thought you never got married? And I never forgot your name. Not really.”

“Wendy and I didn’t. Brenda and I did, and she was a psycho through-and-through.”

“Who’s Brenda?”

“It’s been a few years, Gibbs, and I’ve taken a couple laps around the track. You thought I might be one of the smart ones, but turns out, I’m just as dumb as the rest.” Tony got up and stretched. “I should be going. Got work early tomorrow.”

“What’s on for tomorrow?” Gibbs looked genuinely interested, for once.

If Tony seemed surprised, he refused to show it. “Assisting the transit police. The Metro never sleeps. Getting from here to there is serious business. And they think some of the buskers are dealing. Can you imagine? Some starving violinist trying to make a buck or several selling coke out of his case.” Tony laughed.

“Sounds like a job for the narcotics people.”

Tony shook his head. “I think those pesky subway violinists are selling a bit more than shitty cocaine.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” Tony popped the “p” obnoxiously.

Gibbs quietly considered the playful, almost goading, way Tony spoke to him. It made him uncomfortable, but in a way that was oddly welcome. “So do you know this city now?” he suddenly asked. “As well as you knew Baltimore?”

“Of course I do.”

“I liked that about you. Your brain map.”

Tony laughed, although it sounded a bit strange and breathless and awkward. “Yeah, I guess that is what I called it.” Then he added, feeling somewhat daring, “You’re a strange man, you know that? Getting turned on by mere spatial awareness.”

They caught each other’s eyes.

“It’s attractive,” Gibbs said. The blunt honesty of the comment hung in the air. No embarrassment. Gibbs was never one to beat around the bush.

“Right,” Tony broke the silence. He scratched at the back of his neck. Then he repeated, a bit thrown off-kilter. “Right. I’ve got to go. Later? Sometime. Hopefully not in fifteen more years.”

Gibbs’ answer was short. “Two weeks.” The silence prompted him to add, “My washing machine needs extensive repairs. Had to special order a part.”

“Okay then. I can work with that.”

“Next week. Same time. Here.”

“I’ll bring the quarters,” Tony replied. He didn’t even try to hide his enthusiasm.

“You do that.” Gibbs grabbed his clothes basket. He paused, took a look around. “Not so bad here. Laundroland.”

Tony smirked, “You’re welcome.”

Gibbs paused at the non sequitur. “Could be worse.” He felt Tony’s gaze on him.

“Could’ve been,” Tony said, and it was as fitting as any other temporary goodbye.


End file.
